PETER CARRAVETTA, PROFESSOR IN ITALIAN LITERATURE AND ITALIAN AMERICAN STUDIES, D'AMATO CHAIR, STONY BROOK, CUNY:

" I'll be there. I'll piss on your grave for you are nothing but Italian."

Friday, October 5, 2012. 6:00PM, Casa Italiana Zerilli Marimo', New York University.


The entire trajectory leading to the conference was spayed with police interference from the 111's Lega KKK Slavonic contacts and Mary Mittler's personal disability bus touches, and Carravetta female adolescent spies, who reappeared at the Casa Italiana in kind. At 22 12th Street a female Carravetta resembler in Eurindian getup was waiting for me, and organizing with a New York Presbyterian clone male pushing a stroller to abduct me by ambulance at the show.

In the garden, where I was told to wait ten minutes before the opening of the games since the auditorium was declared out of reach, by impulse, under a Sarah Kaltman Cantor plaque, to celebrate Jewish deaths Mr. Carravetta, a Telegiornale Lega announcer (October 4 and6, late news) relative who had stalked me through various coinage incarnations at the NYU bookstore before, and elsewhere, and a Marchionne page boy in his sixties or seventies Bitte-ing:

A) Did not recognize me, but walked in after me, with the other two.

B)His briefcase, in tan leather was there awaiting him, left behind.he looked at me, implying I could steal it. He sat at a table with his pals, after saying "That's her" to the Lega TiGGiUno person (the news thanks to them is more sports than current events, so their usual bullshit is stupider and sweeter). After making me a collectible "thangs", he sat as I wrote everything, and lowered his voice, ready to claim I was breaking in through the front two trash disposal doors. His plan is to make me a terrorist, these days leftist, or if all else fails, through Frank Marzella, a Hammas spy, because green exists as a color in the United States. The latter informs 211-12 Northern Boulevard of my reading, and today a square Ben Leon type and a Saddam Hussein were at the counter, following Granelle's local stalks organized at 28 also a Carravetta hangout. Here's how the Carravetta hit articulated itself today:

OCTOBER 7, 2012.
10:18AM.

Female at 28 makes my name, loudly to passing stragers (to me) from the driver's seat in a silver gray SUV, NY license plate BMX-9872. I have never met her, do not know her, do not speak to her, and know Marta Tapiero is her pal. She then says "Per Iolanda e' terrorista". The name being my estranged cousin's, or that of an abducted veneto woman being tortured in fascist army military buildings in the basement, only because she's Ita;ian. her feet are being eaten by rats, and 28 finds that funny.

At podiatrist's:

A hunter's pick up truck (Sunday, no clients) is parked in the driveway. It's white.
New York license plate FF2-5863. They're getting famous. Queen Sofia infiltrates at Staples on Northern Boulevard.They're honored, and knew all along that they had the stuff a duchy is made of.

10:20AM. At the corner of 45th and Francis Lewis, there were Old New York license plate dueling banjos:

FEN 1991
and
AFR 0078, driven by a Japanese variant of TiGGiUno and Lega Weirdo who Carravetta called me a thing to chisel to,who also left before the conference began, so was there only to set her eyes on me.

On 45th Avenue, east of Francis Lewis, toward Northern:

"See if she's a terrorist" from:

200-16 45th Avenue;

A sweeping older male Asian at 200-21;

A car from Carravetta, a green Toyota New York white and blue (immigrant-perhaps Chase reference) license plate CNF-1727;

10:24AM. people accumulating to see who's setting foot in a public arena, off on errands;

Backyard rustling at 202-45th Avenue, witha for rent, Julia Chung sign on second floor balcony, in red white and blue;

10:25AM, on a sunday:

a car parked in a drive way by 203rd and 45th Avenue DSN-7107, or a Tapiero special,

AND a Korean Church making alot of noise in KKK italianate, in white and black, like 28, that admits to jostling the local votes for bad cops, which is a recent development, since I've voted in the area without any problems until last primary.

Address: 202-20 45th Avenue, a heroin distributing joint as well, so that's a KKK business deal. Telephone number 718.225.0303, listed on the awning, in case you want to dial-a-prayer. A man steps out, who followed me through my errand route to inform Granelle so she can misconstrue a case to her liking. he asks me what I'm doing. I don't answer. He then looks at a yellow banded woman, then starts jogging across the street in a Mott Trent Lott way toward the Mc Donald's and into it, on 204 and Northern Boulevard, the traffic in his favor (that NEVER happens to me) and apparently seized by a bad case of pre-mass munchies. I can't resist and follow him, with some delay. He's on line for a take out, his TiGGiUno Japanese relative there for that as well, in pink and black. I look at him, he looks at an African monologated adolescent whore who does not break the pattern and says, looking at him, from the counter,"Alexandra no ho for now" saving me for dessert. He nods his head, and ambles off.

BACK TO THE FUTURE OF THE CARRAVETTA CONFERENCE IN WHICH GIOVANNI GENTILE WAS NOT SO BAD AS A FASCIST, AFTER ALL, AND PLATO WAS A PARRICIDE IN PHILISOPHICAL THOUGHT.

So,

Carravetta gets kissed on his left cheek by a blue eyed version of the Tapiero, obviously claiming his placement of that trash in my house, if not houses. As I was walking bythe Korean place, our other tenant thought it wise to chime in, sincethey alsoleave no stone unturned through the precinct, and have a clone problem in male as well.

The good professor,who likes to hold a microphone, (he taught courses at Queens College he gave me A's for, because I studied, and got ulcers because I wrote well)proceeded to inform me that he was a satanist, he ate human poultice from his son's ass, who is the founder of Italy by way of sows from Northern Italian writing, buried in Napoli, a book that has sadly disappeared from my library. He boasted of substituting my Bach's Goldberg Variations with tenorial stomach growls, said true satanists barf after simulating a liking to restaurant food with us normals, that he suffered through stomach pains because he had to get his students published as poets in work that Espresso reported him doing in the New York area for their good, that Jews are more tolerable that Italians,so he enjoyed Halloween as a false Jew,and sounded a toad's call as he imitated the tilt of my head in the opposite direction, meaning to have meabducted to the basement when the auditorium,chilling considerably, would reach the legitimate amount of gas they had taken an elixir for, while I would fall asleep and they would be happy.He kept on debating with Carrera that he wanted to kill me right then and there, as I sat in the audience, with Carrera saying no,not yet, wait. I got bored, and left, after noticing a dark lens-like area in one of the small amplifiers on the podium. A woman missed me by saying she was planning on hitting me in the lower skull upper neck area and abducting me to the basement of the Casa, or some other basement, I don't know,bidding me farewell. She had grayish dark blonde hair,shoulder length. The streets were populated by muzzled dogs, sadly bemoaning my saving myself, and he had me followed by breasts sacrificed to him by upper volta assed whores in brown hair with 3/4 lenses on the sides of their cellphones, on the top of their cellphone's face, top right, slightly above the screen, since he's also involved in pornography, as any good professor claiming Leopardi was insane by altering his work to sound stupid would be. The whores were arranged in a if flight, I'll tape the run formation, and I posed for them just to analize their equipment better. The facial lens switched phones, and the lens was replaced with a Bond Street, James Bond Street logo. Another, with chiseled upper finger tips, with blue eyes she rolled upwards (only blue eyes can look upwards) admitted to fucking hearts during heart operations in hospitals. She just liked it so, so much.She was the one with a lens on the upper side of the cell.

The next day a circle of tan vomit had collected on my sidewalk,circled in a black substance that would not wash off, covered with elongated small dried leaves,about one and a half inches long. I scraped the stuff off with my shoe, rinsing the shoe aswell, and the black crud rinsedoff a grainy white.

Tha audience at the Casa was scarce, non existent,so I thought this was by special invitation only. The tweeters in the main amplifiers seemed to follow me around the room, and glisten from under the black net, as I moved on purpose. I movedaway from the small amplifier and its lens, only to find it aimed at me as I stood elsewhere.

So this is what the Lega is up to in the justice system.

And Carravetta, the great student and popularizer of Avant Garde poetry, much indebted to D'Annunzian Hermione license plates for his plastic fantastic soft vomit ephemeral pieces.

On Saturday, supposedly, an estranged cousin, Sandra Marzella,in a wheelchair and almost blind,who believes blondes and blonds in Italy are American spies through too much abuse by her father, Frank Marzella, and her mother,my mother's dumb ass sister,was busy turning a trick or being a pente coastal outside Saint Nicholas, to establish she was in the neighborhood, she's my next of kin, and my house is theirs. She was shouting in fear of too much brown at the church, and started howling in a child's voice, declaring herself as my cousin, as I was in my apartment, reading my paper. my house makes her mouth water, and foam at the mouth, and she started speaking with a Southern accent, yip yip yip yipping along. The few times I was exposed to her, she always seemed far removed, myuch the same as Frank Marzella. I guess the yipping needed to be hidden. Wilson Tapiero was also amplified at the church as an ersatz composer, while loud bags rang at other musician's performances, if not howls, shouts, growls, and other famished pleas depending on what feelings were elicited by the tunes. Some sounds resembled shots. I hope the musicians are okay. They employ them through community services connected to Greek culture. Sounds like a perfect setting to show up armed: once they start firing, it's fair play.


This is why they destroyed my career at Queens College,CUNY. And this is why I'm collecting evidence, and more evidence on this blog.

By the way George Buhsh invaded my apartment with somebody's photos of them, marked the floor with Jena Bush's white, one piec eof mine with a hair,and decided to howl about it after Carmen Tapiero gracefully stalked me back home, looking to see what I was doing when I came back, which was vacuuming today to see what accumulates by tomorrow or the next day, courtesy of these umbilical chord filth. George Bush, Jena Bush and Barbara Bush all declared that they were fascist and coup d'etated. They must have been shot down since nothing came of it. Bush The George likes to fuck children and these brown hair blue eyes messes, and thinks that by interfering with my typing I will become an eventual mess by suggestion. He said, if you mistype in child's language I can be with him, while the Tapiero are making a claim for me as if it were even feasible. This for being far removed from reality.

So as I was cleaning, which the Tapiero whore informed Bush I was doing, he shouted because he objected at my removing their filth and human trash in the shape of cut nails sometimes, left on the floor, if not public hairs balanced on wall mouldings, as if this were the most normal thing to live with, and enjoyable too.

June Rossi, my estranged half-sister, wants my house, and ruins my dresser through her trash and admits it blithely, because, what oh what can happen to her? She wannt the lower drawer to fall on my feet, and have this trash develop a night time infection because my feet are not Mussolini Italian, but Greek, she consulted a gesso statue or two, and by Jiminy, she knows. I have no intention of severing myself from any part of my body, so we'll see what happens. her filth daughter thought it American to thime my time via hacker, to suggest she is now a Sage, no longer, and thaks be to Odin for that, an Italian.